


Cold Breeze

by TwistedSamurai



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: And his actions, Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Fear of Death, Gen, Healing, Kuja contmeplates his life, Kuja survives, Moogle(s) (Final Fantasy), Zidane saved his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedSamurai/pseuds/TwistedSamurai
Summary: Kuja was saved by Zidane at the Iifa tree, and brought back to Alexandria with him. He still has a long way to go in ways of healing, but he still can't shake the wonders of why his brother saved his life. Was he truly not alone any more? Was he really going to be able to atone for what he'd done?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Cold Breeze

Zidane had saved his life. When things were falling apart, they had miraculously survived. Zidane had come back for him, and now he was wrapped up, in a bed in Alexandria. It was not where Kuja had thought everything would end. Well, then again, he had never thought he would fail, either. But it had been for the best, Zidane and his band of friends had managed to save the world. To save all of them. Including him, Kuja reminded himself once more as he opened his eyes.

Kuja stared up at the ceiling above his head. He could barely move any part of his body, the muscles protesting if he so much as moved his arm a little and his fingers cracking with every he tried to grab at the handle of a cup or the spoon offered to him, but mind was raising a mile a minute. The way people acted only pushed those thoughts into a faster pace, sometimes making his head spin just from the amount of thoughts he had.

His dreams and thoughts were a mess of the past, and his own fears. From Zidane, crouched over him when they were in the Iifa tree, to Garland’s reminder of his mortality and how he was nothing more than a simple puppet. Being dragged back into a dark, murky nothingness as he tried to scream. Being carried out of the vines and branches half dead. He tried to fight the terrors, the idea that the next shaky breath would be his last-

No. Kuja wouldn’t think like that. He refused to let himself think like that. The once proud Angel of Death, even if it was a lie and he was not the one chosen. Even if he was a failure. He was not thinking like that. Instead, he turned his thoughts back to Zidane.

Yes, his brother had saved his life of course. Forgiven him, even for what he had done. That whole circle of friends had apparently done it, as much as it confused him. They should hate him like every one else did. But for some reason they didn’t. Not only that he couldn't bring himself to hate them which only annoyed him even more. But it was mostly just them that didn't hate him. Of course, the Genome could see the barely disguised looks of distrust, hatred, and fear from those who came by to give him some medicine, or help change the bandages, or even just to set his food down.

But Zidane’s friends never had that look.

Pale blue eyes slowly opened as he focused on the ceiling again. It was darker he realized. He continually faded in and out of consciousness, so it wasn’t really that surprising. All the thoughts in his head made him lose track of when he as awake or asleep sometimes. It almost brought a smile to his lips to hear something coming down the hall. He tilted his head a bit as he heard the door open.

A Moogle, checking on him again. He never really cared for the small creatures- they only seemed to get in his way if anything. Not that he would cause them harm, just brush the small furry creature out of the way and ignore it. But now he barely even protested as a furry paw touched his forehead to check his temperature and a straw was brought to his lips with a quiet urging of, “Please drink, kupo!”

Kuja drank the potion that was offered to him as quickly as he could- they’d been feeding him them as often as possible without giving him too many. It was common people thought they could just drink as many as they needed but the body had to heal itself as well. Kuja licked his lips once it was pulled away, glad that it was gone. They never tasted good to him. A small sigh passed his lips as the Moogle left him be again.

A breeze picked up from outside as the door shut, and he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. In the desert, there was barely any wind- and if there was, it was a sign that there was usually a sandstorm about to come through, he’d realized shortly after moving there. But the cool air that washed over his skin was calming, nothing more, and it brought a smile to his lips as he opened his eyes again.

He wasn’t in the desert anymore- he wasn’t alone, either. He had people who were checking on him constantly, and all of Zidane’s friends seemed to try and make visits as well- he’d been awake for a few of them, but he’d barely spoken to them before he had fallen asleep again. When he awoke it was to someone new, or....

Realization at his own thoughts seem to send a jolt through his body and his tail flicked in surprise as he realized. He wasn’t alone.

Zidane had told him as much, but some part of him had refused to believe it. After all, Garland had been less than caring of him since he was a failure and he had made Zidane. The black mages he had created had been empty puppets save for a select few of them that had managed to gain their own thoughts. They had never been any company to him either. Zorn, Thorn, and Bhrane- he shook his head a little, ignoring the pain in his body. He didn’t want to think on that anymore.

The silver haired male forced himself to sit up a bit, gritting his teeth. Usually someone was there to help him with it, but despite the fact it made his head spin he was determined to do it on his own. If someone were in the room, he had no doubt they would simply try and stop him anyways. He let out a breathless groan of pain, hand resting on the bandages still around his ribs before he fell back into the sheets.

“Not yet… Almost.” He coughed weakly, speaking into the cool breeze still coming from the window. “I’ll make it up to them. To Zidane… I may be useless, but I can try and make amends for what I did.” He whispered before the pain of movement finally pulled him under and he succumbed to sleep once more.


End file.
